


Fetid Fealty

by Dirtcore Dreams (NakedEye)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Body Worship, Come Eating, Come Marking, Come Swallowing, Comeplay, Dirty Sex, Filthy, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, Raunch, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Scat, Shit wanking, Smegma, Sweat, Watersports, beastiality, dick cheese, musk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-11 20:47:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15323985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NakedEye/pseuds/Dirtcore%20Dreams
Summary: Thor begs Steve to visit him in Asgard, no one on the team has done it before and after how often he's traveled to Earth, it's only fair. Besides, he thinks there's a couple ways he could teach the Captain to really let go and unwind.





	Fetid Fealty

**Author's Note:**

> Hey you, ya YOU, person who didn't read the tags! (Everyone else who did and is a responsible adult that can take care of themselves, you can move along, because there's minor story spoilers ahead) Thor takes a shit on Steve in this fic and then Steve masturbates with it. Yes I wrote that. Yes I'm posting it. If you've got a problem with it, just move along. I don't care what you think, so don't waste your time trying to flame. Thanks and buh-bye now.

Steve had no idea the trip would entail any of this. Thor had simply pointed out that although he’d visited Earth many times, none of the Avengers had ever thought to come see him in Asgard. It was fair, and Steve  _did_ like spending time with Thor. So when he had a free moment, he begged a weekend off the god, if he provided transport, that is. 

The rainbow bridge came down without him even needing an escort, a guide. One moment Steve was standing in downtown New York and the next he was surrounded by cascading beams of light. He thought he’d touch down in some golden city, or perhaps a walled keep, maybe even a lush meadow. 

But when he hit the ground again, it was at a solider’s camp. Muscled, grizzled, naked men surrounded him, going about their daily routine. Some sharpened swords or polished armor. Others prepped meals or practiced formation. Most were caught in a moment of pleasure, openly, unashamed. 

He saw men jerking their cocks as they lounged in the son, men grunting as they fucked one another on the dirt floor, making streaks of mud across their skin with sweat, and even some sucking the cocks or fucking the asses of their steeds, laying into the beasts with total abandon. 

His face turned red, his pants got tight. His eyes could hardly take all of it in, his brain could barely process it. It was like every time it tried to sink in, he blinked, and the information overload reset. He only got it in bursts, flashes. The smell of spunk. The sight of puddled urine every few feet. The sounds of men swearing and moaning as they skin slapped together. 

Of all the things he could never imagine, all the wonders he thought he might witness in the home of certain gods, Steve never thought it would come to this. He couldn’t have. His most salacious fantasy had simply been to love another man! He felt such same for his affections towards Bucky, his lust after several teammates. 

This, this was Bedlam. This was sheer anarchy and hedonism. And in the middle of it sat Thor. He had a throne, head pillowed, arms bent behind it, showing off the damp, curled hair of his pits. One leg dragged the ground while the other was propped against an armrest, spreading his thighs wide and showing off his soft, hanging cock, unevenly resting balls, a furry, dirty ass. 

Steve gulped. Thor grinned. He was waved over and out of sheer politeness, he made his way over, nodding and smiling at the soldiers that bumped into him, the men that made eye contact as they came. “It seems I’ve caught you at an awkward time, you could have let me know you needed to reschedule.” 

Even as his ears burned, he did his best to play like everything was normal. Thor didn’t seem as interested in the act, raising an eyebrow as he moved one hand to flick a nipple, stroke his belly, bat at his soft cock so it lay pointing upwards as he pissed himself. The golden, bitter smelling stream shot up to his collar bones before running back down, matting his body hair and drizzling down his chair. 

Steve could see stains in the pillow beneath him-- chalky ones, yellow ones, cracked and flaking brown ones. He rolled his shoulders, felt his stomach flip for reasons he couldn’t exactly say were negative ones. “Come now, Captain. You are visiting my home! This is no festival, this is merely the army. Surely you, of all people, understand that boys will be boys.” 

Thor pushed himself to sitting, chuckled as he surveyed his camp. Men were popping squats out in the open, wrestling and fucking in equal measure, sharing food off each others’ bodies, and watering down meager alcohol with piss so there was more to go around. 

Steve watched it all, felt himself balk at the animalistic fervor of it all, but felt little actual need to demand he be sent home. His attention was grabbed again when Thor stuck a finger behind his waistband, tugged him closer and hummed, low and interested. “What’s that saying you have on Earth, Steve? When in Rome?” 

Steve moved to answer, but instead just let out a strangled whimper as Thor leaned forward to nuzzle at his stomach, pushing his shirt up so his beard scratched at skin. Steve had kissed a man before, sure. How could he not have with the lengths he’d gone to save that person? But they’d yet to get to this, to have the chance. 

Maybe it was a good idea to have some... practice. Some practical knowledge. He didn’t want to be embarrassed when he and Buck got a moment to themselves and things really started to roll. Thor unbuttoned his pants, Steve softly groaned. Thor groped at his cock, Steve spread his legs. Thor shoved him to his knees, Steve braced himself against the god’s thick, sweating thighs. 

Standing he’d just registered the general stink of a camp. In part, Thor  _had_ been right. Steve had been in trenches. Men didn’t have time for hygiene in trenches. Unshowered, pissing where they stood, and yes, even then, having sex-- though they had been much more furtive about it. He’d not batted an eyelid at such a familiar odor. 

But here, with Thor running meaty fingers through his hair, slowly drawing him closer and closer, Steve became intimate with the rank of a raunchy man for the first time. Even as it registered in his mind as the singularly most pungent thing he’d ever beheld, he couldn’t help but find it equally alluring. 

There was the tangy salt of a man’s sweat, the distinct musk of a man’s sex, the bitter acrid of piss, the dank swamp of sweltering balls, that earthy, heady rank of a dirty ass, and mostly sharply, the tangy, nearly sour stink of a cock caked in tacky cheese. 

As Steve reached out, ran his fingers down Thor’s growing erection, his overhanging foreskin slid back, revealing just such a truth. The god must not have bathed for days, longer. He must never pull the hood back to piss, squeeze at its mouth to pinch out all the cum. Sweat had to have gathered in the ridges when he fucked, and dirt from the other men as distinctly dirty as Thor was. 

Steve saw it all, smelled it so strongly he could taste it on the back of his tongue before he ever put his mouth to the flesh. Thor made this sound like growling at him, but not angry or impatient. Instead it sounded like a beast that has its prey between its teeth, was just waiting for the hot gush of blood. 

Steve ran his free hand up Thor’s torso, sluicing through the fresh piss and groping at his pecs as he bent over, leaned forward, took it in. The taste was just as complex, as rich and filthy and maddening. Steve was disgusted. Steve was more aroused than he’d ever been. 

His body told him to spit it out, to back away and start to heave. He knew in his mind that all of this should be revolting. But he moaned, he drooled, he took it in deeper and breathed in heavily. Thor’s thighs moved beneath him as he stroked them against Steve’s face, letting him feel the grit of hair on his skin. The god placed his heels atop Steve’s shoulders, slid down in his throne so he was once again propped, lounging. 

His ass was open and exposed again and as Steve felt his lips meet wiry pubes, his tongue slip in the wrinkle of hanging nuts, he also felt the heat of a blustering, reeking fart blooming against his neck. It felt hot on his skin, in his nose, stoked an answering ember deep in his groin. 

He and Thor moaned in unison as he started bobbing, suctioning his cheeks and rolling his tongue. That grimy cockhead poked at the back of his throat, stretched the corners of his lips, drew shapes in spittle across his cheeks and under his nose. Thor bucked every so often to slap him with the heft of his balls, leaving smears of sweat under his chin, down his throat. 

Steve’s hands roamed everywhere, playing with pebbled nipples, tangling in matted bush, massaging ripe feet, and stroking a heaving belly. They eventually found a landing at Thor’s ass, groping and spreading at the cheeks. There was so much flesh, part muscle, part fat, making them pliant and plentiful. 

He couldn’t stop his fingers from sliding in the sweat, inching deeper and deeper until they were pressed in his humid crack, pads rubbing at the wrinkles of his asshole as it pursed, then parted, blowing blisteringly hot and fetid air. Every time Thor farted in got wetter, started to bubble, turned from spicy to dank. 

Steve registered this change, but not what it meant. Even if he did, he was too deep now, face lacquered with spit, tongue tainted. He was desperate, consumed by the need to sample spunk next. He had to have it gush across his tongue, the salt and slick of it. At this point he thought he would guzzle it from a bucket just to have it. 

So he heard the crackle, he felt it warm and wet sticking to his chest. It stank so strong it nearly drowned out the scent of everything else. Steve took Thor’s cock to the root as the god shit all over him, writhing and bucking as he squeezed his friend’s head between his thighs, squishing and smearing it between them. 

He started to come halfway through, throwing his head back and moaning aloud as he fucked Steve’s mouth, grinding as deeply into his throat as he could manage, not pinching off his turd as he shot stream after stream. Steve had to gasp for air through his nose, airway choked off by cock, and his eyes rolled back in his head as he got lungfuls of the steaming pile. 

Thor used his hair to pull him off, letting the last few gushes paint his cheeks as he was let up, allowed to witness the mess they’d made. Steve continued to drool, jaw slack, eyes unfocused as he shook. There was shit all over Thor’s asscheeks, the last traces plopping out his gaping hole. There was shit on his chest, still warm, tacky. 

He could hardly believe it, brain still disconnected, skipping in loops like when he first arrived. On autopilot, he lifted a hand, dragged it through the muck. He sniffed at it, furrowed his brows, looked to Thor. The god chuckled, repositioning himself to rest, eyelids already sagging in contentment. “It’s alright, Captain. You’re no superhero here. Partake of the pleasures of a man.” 

Steve licked his lips, sat back on his heels, nodded shakily as he lowered his hand to his hard, dripping cock. The shit was so warm, so wet and slick. It made the slide to easy, so loud and lewd and filthy. He fucked into his muddy hand with utter abandon, balls slapping against his wrist, chest heaving. 

He arched his back as he started to shoot, cheering and catcalling at his back as the men witnessed him indulge. Steve came in ribbons-- thick, pearly gouts of spunk launching through the air and spattering over Thor’s body. The god idly drew his fingers through it, rubbing it into his skin and hair. “Why don’t you stay a while, Rogers? The men would love to get to know you, and we’ve only yet seen a portion of the wonders in my home.” 

Steve came down from the high. Steve was no longer driven by his animal desperation. Steve took a look at himself, at the men around him, at the mire he had sunk into. He braced himself against the throne, pushed himself up, and over Thor. 

He laid their bodies against each other, bent to lick into his mouth, tangled their legs and aligned their crotches. He didn’t want to seem a tourist during his stay, lord forbid. So Steve had a lot of ground to make up. “I haven’t had a vacation in a hundred years, my friend. Perhaps I’ll take a couple days extra.” 

**Author's Note:**

> If you made it here and you're happy you did, feel free to pop on over to [my tumblr](http://www.drivenbyadevilshunger.tumblr.com) . I got three different prompts in my inbox for some Thor/Steve scat and this is what I wrote for those. You can leave your own, see what else people threw at me, or just start up some random chats. I'm pretty easy going over there and always happy to grow the community.


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